


Becoming A Being Of War

by BrownieFox



Series: Shiro has s u f f e r e d [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Shiro doesn't deserve this, The metal arm, all of them area really short, also cool teeth/skeleton, another 4 + 1, but this is mostly in the arena, glowy galra eyes, just warning ya, language barriers, ocs are minor i promise, so what did you expect, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 01:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9796148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrownieFox/pseuds/BrownieFox
Summary: Four things that Shiro gained during his time as a Galran prisoners and One time when he was still human





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning, not a happy fic

\- 1  Shiro + Language

 

The worst part was that the aliens obviously had a universal translator.

Shiro had heard them using it before they’d knocked him out, when he’d been begging for the peace, for hope, perhaps even for their own freedom. After that moment, however, as he woke up being dragged through an enormous ship, he never heard a being that wasn’t human speak any language from his Earth again. He was thrown into a cell containing himself, Matt, and Sam, and the fact that the three of them were still together was a relief and a small mercy he treasured. Aside from the three Earthlings, there were three aliens in the cell too. One was long and many limbed with a beak-like mouth, another had three mouths and no visible eyes, and their final cellmate had spine-feathers on his head and two sets of eyes.

Matt was freaking out and had squirmed his way behind Sam and Shiro. Of course, they had also put themselves in front of him, mostly instinctively. Sam seemed to be keeping it together by looking through this entirely through his scientific mind, eyes rapidly analyzing everything around them. But Shiro could see Sam’s hand shaking. And Shiro? Shiro was still in shock. None of this seemed real. It had to be, this was too wild and strange to be a dream, but it was still sinking in. The aliens for their part weren’t doing much, just staring at them. Beak-centipede had pushed a plate of mush that must’ve been food over to them, but the trio had yet to touch it.

When where they were and what had happened truly sunk in, Shiro had what could only be a panic attack. He couldn’t breath, he was choking on the air in the ship (surely it wasn’t meant for humans to breath). His entire body was trembling and his own heartbeat echoed too quickly in his ears. Matt had moved over, rubbing circled in Shiro’s back gently and calmly. It wasn’t the first time Shiro had had a panic attack, it wouldn’t be the last, and over the months the three had spent together they had worked out a system. Shiro closed his eyes and let the words of Matt’s family pass through his ears. He knew all the stories by now, they were practically his own mother and sister. Shiro regained his grip. 

After a while, the lights grew dimmer, both inside and outside the cell. And with the dimmed lights the cellmates became noisy. They made deep growling sounds to each other accented by sharp shrieks and yowl and hisses. Matt had somehow managed to fall asleep, undoubtedly from exhaustion, and Sam had curled around his son as he joined him in the realm of unconsciousness. But Shiro couldn’t sleep. He watched as the forms chittered back and forth, falling on his ears that might as well have been deaf.

It was only now, with them occupied on something other than the humans in their cell, that Shiro dared to reach over and pull the plate towards him. The mush was a dark and putrid yellow, and Shiro first tried a single finger’s-worth of the substance. Truth be told, it wasn’t that bad. More than anything it was just… bland. Lacking in any flavor that might’ve given it some redeeming qualities, but having nothing that would make it impossible to eat. Unfortunately the other prisoners noticed this, mainly spikey-head, and it looked over at Shiro excitedly. Spikey-head’s lips pulled up at the corners, an unmistakable smile, and nodded to the plate making sounds.

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand you.” Shiro managed after a while, shaking his head. Mouth-mouth nudged Spikey-head, saying something, and Spikey-head nodded in understanding. It patted its chest, looking Shiro straight in the eyes and made a hissing sound followed by a humming and finished in a purr. It sped up the noise, and it didn’t take a genius for Shiro to realize that it was Spikey-head’s name.

“Y… Ymir?” Shiro tried and Ymir nodded excitedly. Shiro set his own hand on his chest.

“Sh-ear-row.”

oOo

Shiro leaves the arena bathed in blood.

He is usually bathed in blood these days.

There is a new set of clothes for him. He is  _ Champion. _ He has earned the new clothes, or as new as any set of jumpsuit and ragged purple shirt is. Shiro strips and puts them on without a second though. The guards come over and take away the strangely curved sword they had given him before the match. They march him back to his cell, and he doesn’t put up any fight. As  _ Champion  _ he is allowed to rest alone.

It had taken him many matches to realize what that noise that rattled off of the coliseum walls meant. Shiro had come to terms with it long before he’d come to the definition. There had been a time where he’d screamed his name at anybody who might listen until his voice became hoarse and unrecognizable. That felt like years ago. When somebody spoke to him, it was with  _ Champion  _ roaring out of their throat. 

_ “Champion, I see you are still alive.” _

Shiro looked up at the being sitting in a cell across from him. It blinked its large eyes at him.

_ “I am Champion, I will always return alive.” _

The growls and clicks escape his mouth with an ease created from practice and necessity. 

(A few months from now, he will not be able to remember much of his time here. He will not remember that he once could speak in Galran more than he could dredge up what English was.)

 

\- 2  Shiro and Bones and Teeth

 

Shiro had only fought in three battles, and he hoped that there may be a day he might not have to fight anymore. This was a point when he had hope of such a thing still. This was a time when he still checked in whenever he could and attempted to try and keep track of where Matt and Sam were in a great universe he knew nothing about.

The guards came for him and Shiro struggled to his feet. He hadn’t slept well the night before (he never slept well) and it just might end up being the death of him. But if he was dead there was nobody to save Sam and Matt. If he was dead, nobody out here would know. His family (both blood and honorary) would never know what happened to them. So Shiro got up, mentally preparing himself for the fight. So far it was only thanks to his analytical mind that he’d survived the last three battles.

It was only after they had taken more turns than Shiro was used to that he realized they weren’t heading to the arena. Fear spiked through him and his head whipped down the hall they had just left. The cell was the closest to safety he had at the moment, and an irrational part of him wanted to run back there. The guards seemed to sense this and the one holding his arm tightened its grip painfully. They continued to march him down corridors and Shiro’s anxiety for what was to come worsened until they entered a room that consisted of a mostly flat table and various dangerous instruments. Shiro wasn’t given a chance to run as the guards grabbed his shoulders and spun him around before forcing him down. Glowing purple cuffs enclosed his wrists and ankles. Shiro desperately struggled against them, more fear and instinct working than actual logic at the motion. This was it. Three battles was all the entertainment he was good for, and now they were taking the chance to get a better look at what humans were made of. Perhaps he’d been too interesting, and they wanted to know what made him so good at fighting. A needle was stabbed into his arm and the world faded.

Shiro didn’t expect to wake up. Then again, for the while he’d been here there had been many points where he hadn’t expected to wake up.

There was a bone deep ache that ran through him. Strangely enough, it was entirely bone deep, just his bones that hurt and ached as if they been broken. Carefully, slowly, he sat up. He was back in his cell, which shouldn’t’ve been the relief that it was. There was a new brick of food next to the door and Shiro sighed. Ever since he’d become  _ Champion,  _ that gargled sound that echoed in his ears for hours after the matches, he’d moved to the single-being cell and the food they served had changed. Instead of the bland mush he was given a bitter brick that he had to gnaw at if he wanted to get any part of it off. While he had absolutely no proof to back it up, Shiro had reason to believe that the brick was higher in calories and probably other things that helped to keep him in fighting condition. Shiro grabbed the loaf (had it always been that light?) and prepared for the task of removing portions. It was a miracle he hadn’t broken any teeth on it yet. Shiro bit down.

His teeth slipped right through the brick.

He then nearly choked on what was in his mouth. That was not supposed to happen. That was new. And if Shiro had learned anything so far, new was never good news. He hacked up the chunks lodged in his throat and carefully brought his thumb to his mouth. His thumb slid over his teeth and came away with a clean cut, bleeding.

oOo

Shiro stared down his opponent in the arena.

_ Champion  _ came, chanted down from the tiers. It surrounded Shiro. No one yelled for his competitor, a lizard-like being crouched low to the ground. It made the first move, dashing towards Shiro and jumping at him. It latched onto his arm and Shiro screamed as its crunched through his flesh. But that was all it did. The lizard looked lost for a moment, it’s jaw attempting to bite down more. It must’ve been used to biting clean-through arms. But Shiro’s arm was too augmented for such a thing.

His knuckles cracked across the lizards face and when it still stayed there he punched it again, right into its eyes. Its mouth opened up and Shiro wretched his arm free. Pain was a momentary thing. The Galra would fix it later, and if they didn’t Shiro would deal. Right now he had a match to win and a sword in his hand which he swung into the lizard’s side. The lizard for its part put up a fight, leaving Shiro with another bite mark on his leg and attempted to ram into his leg to bend it the wrong way. When Shiro finally drove his sword into its neck, he bent down to where it was pinned on the ground.

_ “What’s your name?”  _ He growled out. The lizard shook his head and Shiro bowed his own. New enough that it couldn’t speak Galran yet. It made a few pitiful noises, eyes staring deeply into Shiro’s pain reflected in them.

_ “Believe me when I say you are getting the better half here.”  _ Shiro placed his hand on the lizards side. It couldn’t understand him, but he had to say this.  _ “You will be free.” _

The light died from the being's eyes.

Shiro straightened up and pulled the sword free from the lizard, facing the audience once more. 

_ “Champion!”  _ They yell.  _ “Champion!” _

 

\- 3 Shiro and Galran Eyes

 

Shiro struggled more the next time they didn’t take him directly to the arena.

By now he’s lost track of many things: time, the ‘location’ of Sam and Matt (as if there was a time he ever really knew), how many battles he’s done. The reinforced skeleton was good. It was incredibly useful and against everything Shiro stood for he was almost grateful for it. Almost. Except there was the fact that it was surgery performed without his permission and that was just something that Shiro couldn’t stand for.

So when the guards took a different turn than usual, Shiro punched one in the face, sending the guard reeling into the wall and clutching his face. It felt good, being the first time Shiro had ever landed a hit on a Galran. The moment didn’t last however, as the other guard pulled out some shocking-weapon that made Shiro’s muscles go completely limp. They dragged him the rest of the way, and Shiro is actually proud of this fact. It meant he wasn’t going willingly, and in this place it meant a lot.  The guards flung him onto the table and the cuffs glowed and sparked across his wrists and ankles. If he had the strength he’d shout, he’d thrash against the bonds, but all he could manage after the shock was an annoyed, dark sound in the back of his throat.

_ “Is this the Champion?”  _ The voice wasn’t more than a hiss. The owner of the voice came into Shiro’s line of vision, and strange (which, considering Shiro life these days, was saying something) being wearing a mask. One of it’s hands reached out from its cloak and set its finger on Shiro eye, which he had just barely been able to close before it made contact. Immediately a burning sensation seeped into his eyeball and Shiro would be screaming if he could.

_ “Yes, it is.”  _ A soldier confirmed needlessly.

_ “Haggar’s been watching him. I’m here to make sure he’s a valuable investment. A modification would do well.”  _ The finger was removed from Shiro’s eye only to be placed on his temple. This time it was accompanied by an icy-cold that spread through his blood and then darkness seemed to wrap around him. 

When he came too he was back in his cell. Experimentally, Shiro clenched his fist. It didn’t feel any different. Last time, he’d been aching, so why wasn’t he this time? He refused to believe that they hadn’t done anything to him. His brow furrowed as he looked around his cell. It was definitely his… probably. They all did look rather similar. But he must’ve been out for hours, surely the ship’s lights would’ve dimmed by now? If anything, they almost seemed to be brighter than usual. He blinked at one of the usually-dark corners. Something was definitely off. With every blink it felt as if something was sliding across his eyeballs, from the edge towards the nose, just as quickly as his eyelids. Carefully he reached for his eye and touched something over that seemed to be covering it. Gently he pushed it to the side it seemed to come from and with it left the brightness of the room, revealing that the ship was in fact dark. 

Shiro had to sit in a corner for a little while and try not to freak out too much at the fact that he now had a very non-human thing as a part of him.

oOo

The eyelids, like his bones, inevitably proved to be useful.

It took him a while to be able to use them. Most the time he had to take a few seconds to focus on closing or opening the lids. But they were helpful for the  _ Oblivion Fights  _ as the crowd called out. Fights done that the fighters were cast in complete darkness. Shiro had struggled in them, relying on his often inferior hearing. It was really a miracle he had lived through most of them… though he was beginning to lose his faith in miracles. It was while he was practicing more his new set of eyelids (he could almost wink with them) that the new prisoner was placed in the cell across from him. It took him a moment so get a good look but he recognized the flare of feathery-spines in a moment.

“ _ Ymir _ ?” Despite everything he’d been through, Shiro couldn’t help but smile. The young alien looked over, fanged mouth opening happily. Sound came easier from his mouth than the first time Shiro had said the name.

_ “Shiro!”  _ Ymir went as close to his cell door as he dared.  _ “You live! You live! I live too!”  _

_ “I can see that.”  _ Shiro nodded.  _ “And you are alright?”  _

_ “I fight in arena. Not a Champion, many defeats. But alive! Here to fight again.”  _ Ymir explained.

They chatted for awhile, and it was immensely comforting to have somebody to talk to, somebody Shiro trusted in any amount. But Ymir was here to fight. And as long as they were on the same ship, that wasn’t good news for either of them.

The following day, as Shiro was led to the coliseum, he refused to go through the tunnel. The guards looked ready to use force, but Shiro wouldn’t be move.

_ “I challenge the ship Champion.”  _ Shiro demanded.  _ “I challenge the best fighter to an Oblivion Battle.” _

The opponent was gathered quickly, as challenges from  _ Champions  _ were always quickly recieved and very much welcome. The current victor of the ship was an alien with thick and rocky skin and long arms. They entered, a knife in each hand, and looked over at Shiro sadly, as if they were sorrow to have to fight and probably kill him. To which Shiro would’ve responded that the feeling was very much mutual. The other  _ Champion’s  _ eyes were glowing yellow, and Shiro wondered if that’s what is looked like.

The lights went out.

The battle began.

oOo

Shiro had left the ship Ymir had been on long ago. He never knew what happened to the somehow cheerful alien, but that was probably for the best. At least it wouldn’t be Shiro that killed him.

He stood on the chest of his most recent opponent, face reflected in the blood that pooled beneath the soon-to-be corpse. He couldn’t help the slight snarl that his lips twisted into at the sight of the yellow eyes. The  _ Oblivion Battle  _ had been particularly hard, and Shiro would almost applaud his foe at the struggle. The yellow eyes, while helpful to see with, gave his position away. Which was why it was a good thing that wasn’t his only advancement. By this time he’d been pulled in for modifications too many times, and he was fairly sure one had advanced his hearing.

_ “What is your name?”  _ Shiro asked the competitor.

_ “B-bleee-eagh-ht.”  _ Blood clogged his throat but somehow he managed to get the sounds out. For all Shiro knew, it could’ve actually been a swear or something, perhaps a plea, but with aliens it was nearly impossible to tell.

_ “May any gods you believe in welcome you.” _

The lights returned to the arena and Shiro’s Galra eyelids flicked open quickly and without a thought. The crowd cheered.

_ “Champion!” _

Shiro pulled his bloody sword for the opponent’s chest and raised it in the air in triumphant.

 

\-  Shiro + The Arm

 

_ “W-what’s y-yo-ur na-a-ame?”  _ Shiro just barely managed to get the words out as he laid on the ground, curled up in the fetal position. His arm was clutched close to his chest, although it was hard to say whether it could even be considered an arm in its current state. Through the haze of pain, Shiro couldn’t help but notice how silver his bones were. 

_ “Nehmsi.”  _ The being hummed. The large beast was on the ground across from Shiro. There had been no blade this battle, but Shiro had still managed to get a sizable chunk out of both of its legs and one arm had been ripped completely off. The chucks still left a strange, almost orange-y taste in Shiro’s mouth and he almost regretted using his teeth on those. The arm had come off with a combination of arm strength and well-placed bites from the back of his jaw. While he had been executing the move, Nehmsi had grabbed his arm and snapped it. 

_ “I’m Sh-i… Shh-i-ro.”  _

Nehmsi gave a nod, or a perhaps they were just shaking.

_ “One of us. Free.”  _ Nehmsi’s voice had a tone of wistfulness to it.

_ “Yeah.”  _ Shiro wondered if this was it. Perhaps this would be the end, on the dirt ground of the arena. His blood mixed with the dirt. Maybe today, he would fade out of his body. If God existed, he wondered if the amount of killing he’d done would forever damn him. Or perhaps his spirit would turn into stardust. The more he thought about it, the more he came to terms with the concept. Some days, he could barely remember what Matt and Sam looked like. Sometimes, he caught himself thinking of his cell as home. And he turned his head whenever he heard  _ Champion.  _ Did Takeshi Shirogane even exist anymore?

Nehmsi’s chest stopped rising.

Somebody picked him up, forcing him out of his curled position. Shiro screamed out as his arm was wrenched away from body and surrounded in something soft. There were pounding feet and he was back on the table. The pain from his arm was fading, but not in a my-ghost-is-leaving-its-flesh-cage-of-suffering, but in a oh-god-they’re-going-to-put-me-under-again. 

“The Champion.” Shiro looked over at the voice. It took him a scary amount of time to recognize the words as English. The purple-woman looked so similar to a human that it was stranger than any alien Shiro had seen. “ _ My  _ Champion. A broken arm could take months to fix. It would never be the same again. Luckily for you, I have more planned for your future.” Her hand ran through his hair and Shiro’s head banged against the table as he tried in vain to get as far away from her as possible. Every fiber of his being was yelling, screaming that death was better than whatever she was. “My Champion, I will make you into the empire’s most powerful weapon. Zarkon will reward you greatly for what you will accomplish for us.”

The drugs wrapped around Shiro’s consciousness and dragged it, kicking and biting, down into darkness, leaving the final image of a saw blade being lowered towards his arm to burn into his mind.

oOo

Shiro’s arm slid easily out of the competitor’s body, the glowing purple covered in steaming gray blood. He looked down at the corpse, already dead. It would seem that whatever he had hit, it was vital to the extraterrestrial. He would not be able to learn what its name was, never be able to give it a final reassurance that it was on to a place better than this. Even if it was never ending darkness or nothing at all, it would be better than this. The audience cheered out.

Shiro raised his glowing, bloody fist into the air.

_ “CHAMPION!”  _ He roared.  _ “I AM CHAMPION!” _

oOo

The guard walked past.

One tick, two tick, three tick, four tick…

Shiro counted as he waited for the next to make the circuit. He felt the cool metal of his arm on the fingertips of his flesh hand. This was more than anything they’d ever done to him. They had plans to him. He was being made into their perfect pawn, into a servant of the Galra empire. But Shiro had come to terms with his death. Now he was ready live.

The next guard walked past in the opposite direction.

One tick, two tick, three tick, four tick…

 

\+ 1  Shiro + Humanity

 

“Oh wow.” 

The man would’ve echoed the thought, but he was more of a speechless shock than a verbal one. The spiked bottoms of his spacesuit cut into the ice as he stepped on it, keeping him from slipping.

Sam placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. 

“We made it.”

“I can’t believe it.” Matt was on his hands and knees, staring at his reflection in the frozen surface. “This… this is history! We’re a part of history!”

“Hey, don’t cry!” Sam knelt next to his eldest. “Cry too much and your tears might just drown you.”

“Dad! We’re here!” Matt wrapped his arms around Sam.

The man looked away from the moon, staring off into the distance. The sun stared back, a shining orb in the distance surrounded by thousands of stars. The Earth was too far away to be seen with the naked eye.

The man stood at the edge of the solar system, farther than any human had ever journeyed. A speck in the universe, hurtling through space as the moon spun around the sun and the solar system around a black hole. 

This man did not know that he wouldn’t spend long here.

He was not aware of the ship approaching that would carry him straight into the depths of Hell where the fire would leave its brand eternally on his body, mind, and soul.

There was no way he’d ever guess, or even dream of becoming one of the universe’s final hopes.

How could he imagine the feeling of becoming one with a mechanical beast with hidden cosmic powers.

The man did not know that he would one day fade into the astral plane.

For that was exactly what he was at this point: a human man.

“It’s amazing.” Takashi Shirogane said to his companions, staring into space. 

And space stared back.

**Author's Note:**

> Yup  
> I guess I wrote that.  
> I hope you enjoyed it.  
> If you have any ideas for fics, don't be afraid to shoot me a message


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